The Spoonbill Generator

North-east Is Henceforth Banished

A globe for tea, crammed high with brine,       [Apsley ]

Epitome of high design       [Beefy ]

Whenas the periwinkle gleams       [Roland ]

It has such very simple dreams       [Beefy ]

Yet none of its, I trow, are mine       [Roland ]

The pungent whiff of iodine       [Grayman ]

(Oh, let us sniff a long red line!)       [F ]

Whenas the Oberführer yells       [Roland ]

"It has such very complex smells"       [Padfoot ]

Then settles by the grizzled pine       [Apsley ]

We hear the injured fakir whine       [Roland ]

To realize the Circle line       [Apsley ]

Whenas the Fat Controller creeps       [Roland ]

Fathoms not the greater deeps       [Apsley ]

That polarise the nether Rhine       [Roland ]

Contributors: Apsley, Beefy, Roland, Grayman, F, Padfoot.
Poem finished: 9th July 2004 by Apsley.